


Vissi D'Arte

by LydianNode



Series: A Life At the Opera [6]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Language, mention of major illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode/pseuds/LydianNode
Summary: He's Freddie Fucking Mercury, darling. He's given his whole life to his art, and no ridiculous plague of a virus can stop him.





	Vissi D'Arte

Freddie doesn't really need the follow-up appointment with the clinic. It's just a formality, an official seal on what he already knows. He stops smoking but the cough lingers. He starts eating more but his weight is still dropping. One morning he looks in the mirror and all he can see are his eyes, enormous and terrified. He knows.

Despite it all, he swaggers into the clinic as if he can work the diagnosis the way he works a crowd. Head up, shoulders back, expensive shades in place, he's Freddie Fucking Mercury, darling. He's given his whole life to his art, and no ridiculous plague of a virus can stop him. 

When he listens to the doctor spell out the few options he has, the braggadocio is punched right out of him. This isn't fair. All he ever did was show love. He's reminded of Caballé's Tosca, the plea to heaven: _I've never harmed a living soul_. 

But that's not true. Freddie remembers, shame heating his cheeks, all of the horrible things he said to his friends when he announced his deal with CBS. Oh, the insults he hurled at Roger and Brian, and the unforgivably cold savagery of what he had spat at John. No wonder they had to be dragged to Jim's meeting. Roger's eyes had been steely; Brian's face had radiated disillusionment. And John, his Deacy, couldn't even bear to look at him. 

He had wounded them, had wronged them, had betrayed them. He had deserved to suffer retribution at their hands, God knows, deserved every sharp word, every cruel turn of phrase they could invent. He almost longed for it. 

Instead, they had forgiven him. And that absolution, their collective grace, is an ironic penalty of its own. It cuts to his heart, reminding him of everything he's going to lose. 

As he walks down the corridor toward the exit, his death sentence signed and sealed, he deliberately avoids looking at the boy sitting on the bench. He's skin and bones, patches of cancerous flesh marring what once was probably a beautiful complexion. The Ghost of Freddie Yet To Come. Freddie almost makes his escape, then he hears it. 

"Aaay-oh." 

It's his punishment, knowing that he means so much to so many people and that he will leave them far too soon. But in the chastisement is the hope of redemption. His voice cracks as he answers. "Aaay-oh." 

He's still Freddie Fucking Mercury, darling. 

*** 

He has Jim stand away and back, guarding the door. Freddie's voice has been rubbish all during practice, finally giving out altogether, and he knows it's time to give the speech he's been rehearsing.

He hesitates for a moment. This is the last time his friends will see him as Just Freddie. Not Poor, Dying Freddie. He wants to memorize everything about them as they stand together. 

John, that clever, droll, dear man, still so guileless even after everything Freddie has done to him, waits patiently. He doesn't know what's about to hit him. 

Neither does Brian, their tenderhearted mainstay, their Botticelli angel with hands that fly over his guitar like wildfire. 

Between them is Roger, as impulsive as he is beautiful, and oh, God, he's so beautiful. His ocean-blue eyes are wary, as if he expects Freddie to abandon him all over again. 

He's not wrong. 

Freddie delivers the blow quickly, without fanfare. Brian's gentle sympathy and Roger's open-mouthed, silent shock are bad enough, but what could kill Freddie then and there is the single tear that trails down John's face. 

He can't promise how long he'll be with them. What he can promise is to blow a hole in the sky, to give his singing to the stars in heaven. 

He's still Freddie Fucking Mercury, darling. And he's got a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I've started a Tumblr! Find me here: lydiannode.tumblr.com .


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